The Other Side of the Glass
by theWhiteWolfos
Summary: Zatara may not be able to move or speak, but he can still think, and plan, and worry about his daughter. Oneshot.


**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, I don't own Young Justice. Oh well.

_So this is my first fan fiction; I hope you enjoy. Reviews, faves, and critiques are always appreciated._

* * *

After he had finally resigned himself to being Doctor Fate, at least for the moment, Giovanni Zatara noticed that there were two worlds he could now traverse.

The first area was dark and all encompassing, save for what seemed like a spotlight pouring down a stream of light from above. No matter which way he turned, the darkness stretched out endlessly. As an experiment, Zatara picked a direction and walked for what felt like hours, trying to see if he could find some kind of exit. Inky blackness was all that he saw, however, and when he turned around the spotlight was still the same distance away.

The second world was, thankfully, familiar. When he grew tired of the dark world, he looked _out_ and suddenly his vision would explode with color. He would be flying, usually, or stoically sitting with his arms crossed, gazing out into the world he knew and loved.

Of course, Zatara knew that _he _was not truly looking; it was Nabu. As much as the magician tried to walk, or speak, or even move his eyes, he could not; the Lord of Order was always in control.

Often, Nabu was fighting. Magic would spring from his fingertips, blasting now all-too-familiar ankhs of light into his foes. It was like watching a movie with one's face right up against the screen.

A movie that could _hurt_, Zatara soon realized as a laser beam from a gun blasted into his side. Doctor Fate grabbed his stomach as Zatara was thrown backwards into the dark world, doubled over in pain. While Nabu was powerful, he was very prone to accepting hits. The man figured that having a Lord of Order in one's body allowed it to survive more than most, but Zatara had to suffer the consequences.

Speaking of that, Nabu had little need for mortal comforts. He seemed to sustain himself on pure magical energy, and did not require mortal sustenance. When Thanksgiving came around, his thoughts were filled with food, and drink, and his daughter spiraling turkey and spices through the air while magic playfully jumped off of her fingertips and her laughter filled the air and… and…

Zatanna…

Not a single day went by without the magician thinking about his daughter. He did not regret his decision—he would do anything for her, even accept the burden of being a vessel for Nabu—but he desperately yearned for her in his arms.

Early on, Zatara had asked Nabu from the dark world if he could see his daughter. The man had even reasoned that Nabu did not even need to take off the helmet, that simply saying that her father was all right would be enough. It may not have been exactly what he wanted, but he needed to tell her that he was _alive_, and that _your father is still here and still loves you_.

"_Your thoughts are not becoming of vessel of a Lord of Order_," said Nabu, floating high above Zatara in the form of the Helmet. "_The world needs Doctor Fate; there is no time for anything else_."

When Zatara had still insisted, Nabu had locked him into that world of darkness. No matter how much he had tried, Zatara could not get out, could not see the real world through Nabu's eyes. It lasted so long that Zatara was afraid that he would go mad. Finally, _finally_, the barrier was lifted and he could once again see the sky and the sun and people and _life_.

He decided that if he were going to see his daughter, he would have to do it without Nabu's help.

So when Doctor Fate went fighting, his mind wholly concentrated on the battle, Zatara would retreat into the dark world and try to find holes in the Helmet's seemingly impenetrable defense. He called on every spell he knew: ones for teleportation, destroying barriers, separation, anything. He even tried to send messages to the Justice League, knowing that if hecould not get himself free, then maybe they could help him. In desperation, he even shouted dark, evil spells, spells that he had only heard his wickedest foes ever dare utter. He was so desperate to see his daughter again that he would try anything, _do_ anything, to free himself.

Nothing worked. The dark world held fast, the Justice League did not respond, and Nabu still remained in control.

But changes were occurring. For whatever reason, Nabu seemed to confide in Zatara more. They now fought as a team instead of only Nabu holding the reins. Sure, the Lord of Order was always in control, but Zatara would give battle strategies and remark upon enemy attacks that Doctor Fate could only barely see out of the corner of his eye. Zatara may not have liked Nabu's methods, but the being still wanted to protect the world and stop those who wished to harm it. He could respect that.

And he could also respect the fact that when Wonder Woman suggested that Zatanna join the Justice League as a full member, it was _Nabu_ who decreed that it was out of the question. He could have easily said nothing, and Zatara, fuming but still trapped, would have had to let the comment slide.

Though Doctor Fate's following comment on how "Zatara's trust in Nabu is measured" made the magician sheepishly realize that he was not completely trusted either, and his attempts inside of the Helmet to contact the League did not go as unnoticed as he had thought.

And speaking of the Justice League…

Zatara was very disappointed in his friends. He understood that it had only been a month since he put on the Helmet of Fate (had it only been that long?), so it made sense that the League had not found a way to free him yet. What hurt, though, was that he was being ignored.

Oh, sure, his fellow superheroes did talk and interact with him, but it was _Nabu_ that they spoke to. Most of his friends would refer to him as Doctor Fate instead of Zatara, and call on Nabu's guidance instead of his own. It was as if they had forgotten that their friend was still there inside of that helmet.

Captain Marvel was one of the few who would talk to him. He would talk about random, pointless things, like this new video game he had just gotten or this apparently awesome battle he had won. However, he soon would get annoyed at the fact that Doctor Fate would barely acknowledge his presence, and would storm off, muttering about Nabu was a big jerk-face.

Zatara wondered how it took him and the League so long to figure out that the man was, in fact, a child.

Occasionally, Black Canary would talk to him as well. Her voice would turn soft when she spoke to him (or, really, to the uncaring wall of Doctor Fate), and he soon realized she was slipping into her "therapist" mode. But that did not matter, since she gave the man what he really wanted: information about his daughter. Zatanna was, apparently, still a part of the Team (which Zatara was still not very pleased with), but she seemed happy, and protected, and that was all that the father really wanted.

Well, other than being able to see and talk to her again.

So once again he started to prod at the nonexistent boundaries of the Helmet of Fate, knowing full well that Nabu was watching. He _would_ see his daughter again, one way or the other.

One day, however, something changed. He was reciting spells in the dark world that he was sure that he had already tried a thousand times before when there was a quick pressure on his back. The world turned completely quiet.

_That_ made the hairs on Zatara's neck stand up. Ever since he had put on the Helmet of Fate, there had been this hum always present in the back of his head. He never quite determined what exactly that sound was, but he figured that it was Nabu's presence, always there and in control. The magician had, by this point, tuned the soft noise out.

But now it was gone, and the silence was so vast by comparison.

Zatara had to stop himself from laughing. He did not know whether it was his or the League's work, but the silence met that Nabu was gone, or at least weakened. He was _free_, and he could finally get his body back and see his daughter again—

Then the hum came back, but this time it was louder, and harsher, and felt like darkness and despair.

Chaos magic.

As Zatara tried to figure out how Klarion (because who else had this sheer amount of chaotic energy) managed to push Nabu away, he realized another crucial fact.

In the real world, he was at the Justice League's initiation party.

How had the Witch Boy managed to sneak close enough to Doctor Fate to use his magic while Zatara was both surrounded by almost the entire Justice League as well as inside the Watchtower?

There was no way that Klarion could have done this alone. The boy was as chaotic as the magic he wielded, and had neither the skill nor patience to conduct such a plan. Also, there was the matter of how he had gotten in the Watchtower in the first place. The only ways inside the floating tower were through bursting open the walls (which _someone_ would have noticed) or by Zeta-Tubes, but Klarion definitely was not authorized in the database for such a trip.

Unless Red Arrow's accusations were true, and there really was a mole…

Mindless finger pointing would not help him now, however; he had to figure out how to get Klarion out of his body.

But Zatara did not know what to do. What if the Witch Boy had as much control over his body as Nabu usually did? The Lord of Order had been able to lock him away in the Helmet of Fate whenever he wanted to. What could a Lord of Chaos in that same control do to him? The Helmet was probably the only thing keeping him safe; without it, he would probably be in the same state as Nabu.

And so Zatara once again prodded at the nonexistent borders of the Helmet, trying to find a way to get Klarion out.

Then, suddenly, there was a slight touch on the back of his neck and Klarion was _gone._ The magician didn't have the foggiest idea what had just happened; he needed to gauge his surroundings first.

It seemed safe, though. All traces of Klarion had disappeared, and he could feel Nabu slowly gain control once again. If he were going to find out what was going on as well as possibly make advances on freeing himself while Nabu was weakened, he would need to leave now.

Carefully, Zatara looked _out_.

Doctor Fate was on the floor of one of the many rooms of the Watchtower. Icon was laying near him face down. Captain Marvel, currently his child form of Billy Batson, was standing, and was currently looking at…at…

Oh she was so familiar, and beautiful, and aside from a few nicks and scrapes she seemed fine and she was alive and it was his daughter, his Zatanna, standing just in front of him and he wanted to get up and hold her and hug her and simply be with her and speak with her but then he realized he couldn't move and he screamed and pushed and pulled but he couldn't move and _why couldn't he move?_

After taking a few deep mental breaths, he realized that while Nabu still seemed to be weakened, the being still had faculty over his body. As long as the Helmet of Fate was on his head, Nabu would still have control.

Zatanna seemed to read his mind. She walked over to her father, bent down, and reached for the Helmet, Zatara eagerly watching and hoping.

_"The world needs Doctor Fate!"_

It took everything Zatara had to hold on to the real world as Nabu seized complete control once again. Enraged, the Lord of Order sent a magical shock through the Helmet, which made Zatanna drop her father and flinch backwards.

But the younger magician was not done. "Temleh, esaeler ym rehtaf!"

_"Know your place!"_ Nabu internally yelled back, sending Zatanna flying across the room and Zatara deep into the dark world. Despite the distance, Zatara could feel Nabu concentrating more magic to fire at his daughter.

And he had just _had_ it.

He was tired of being useless. Tired of having no say in anything, of having his body being used as cosmic plaything. Tired of waiting, and waiting, with no end in sight.

He was tired of not being with Zatanna.

He was Giovanni Zatara, a magician, a protector, a member of the Justice League, but most importantly he was a father, and he was not going to let anyone hurt his daughter.

So he reached, and grasped, and _pulled_ at the darkness around him, calling on all his memories of magic and pain and love, and Nabu's magic stopped and the Helmet of Fate was in his hands and he could feel the Lord of Order's presence inside it.

If Zatara were being rational, then he would have taken a moment to figure out _what had just happened_. He had never been able to stop Nabu from doing anything before, let alone bring him into the dark world. He should have taken that moment to calmly assess the situation and determine whether he could use this moment to free himself completely from Nabu.

But he was not being rational; he was holding the _thing_ that had just hurt his daughter and was practically crushing the Helmet in his fingers.

"Nabu!" Zatara roared. "You will _never_ harm my daughter again. _Do. You. Understand. Me?_"

The man did not know that it was possible to stun a Lord of Order, but Nabu was motionless, voiceless, for a long time.

"Very well."

The Helmet began to vanish and Zatara was soon left grasping air. He could feel Nabu stretching out, taking control, and the soft hum once again echoed through his ears.

* * *

Zatara may have been alone in the dark world, but Zatanna's face still lingered in his mind's eye. Even if he were trapped inside the Helmet, he would still protect and watch over her.

But he still pressed at the Helmet of Fate's defenses, looking for nonexistent cracks in a sea of black that stretched on forever.


End file.
